The Bleeding Dusk by Colleen Gleason Page A

as she’d ever given him.
    In truth, she had expected it to be Sebastian—now that she’d sent the message through Beauregard.
    â€œWhere have you been?” she asked, her heart still hammering from the surprise of his unexpected appearance. She looked up at him as if the answer would be in his countenance. And perhaps it was.
    Even in the mediocre light from a smattering of stars and the occasional lantern on the street, she could see weariness, and a sort of hesitancy in his face. His cheeks seemed more pronounced, his thick hair more out of place than usual, his sharp jawline set and harsh and with at least three days’ stubble. Max’s dark clothing, although never as perfectly stylish as Sebastian’s, was rumpled, and there was no sign of a mask, costume, or moccoletto anywhere on his person.
    â€œIt’s been almost four months, Max. Where have you been?”
    â€œI’ve been in various places of no import.” He stood back from her, but could not seem to tear his attention from her face. “You don’t appear to have suffered any great mishap during my absence.”
    Victoria realized how she must sound—needy and uncertain, and as though she and the Venators could not function without him. She straightened, becoming more aloof to match his style. “Have you been following me? Or perhaps you were looking for someone else tonight.”
    Max’s handsome, angular countenance appeared even sharper than usual in the bluish glow of night. Because he was so tall, when he looked down his long, straight nose at her, his eyes were little more than dark hollows in the shadows of his face. “Following you? I’d have no reason to do such a thing.”
    â€œYou certainly weren’t lurking about in the shadows trying to protect me.”
    He paused, then replied in an odd voice, “You’d lost your vis bulla. ”
    â€œSo you were watching to make certain I was safe? How very nice of you, Max. But I don’t know what you thought—”
    â€¦ you might do to protect me without your own vis bulla.
    Victoria quickly changed the subject. “You’ve cut your hair.” The last time she’d seen him he’d worn his hair clubbed back in a brief stub. Now it was too short for that.
    â€œI couldn’t be more gratified that you noticed.”
    She ignored the comment and responded with one of her own. “Is Sarafina lurking in the shadows? Why not invite her to join us? I didn’t get to speak with her last night.”
    â€œI’ve just arrived, so I haven’t any notion where Sara is, but undoubtedly you have some point to make by mentioning her. If so, then make it, Victoria. Unlike Vioget, I prefer to cut to the quick of the matter rather than banter around it like a May dance.”
    â€œIt sounds as if you’re bantering now,” she replied smartly. Then she thought better of continuing the game and said, “Your fiancée attempted to have me kidnapped last night. Do you have any idea why?”
    He didn’t respond immediately—nor did he deny Sara was his fiancée. Max just looked down at her, as though deep in thought. “What happened?”
    â€œShe lured Zavier and me from Carnivale up to the Regalado family plot in a graveyard, and four or five men tried to wrap me in a big canvas and spirit me away.”
    â€œAnd fortunately Zavier came to your rescue.”
    â€œAnd fortunately I was able to rescue myself and didn’t stake Zavier when he tried to get between me and a vampire,” Victoria replied, realizing Max was succeeding in annoying her already, and wondering why she continued to let him—and why he continued to try.
    â€œZavier came between your stake and a vampire? Did he get the harsh side of your tongue for his troubles? At least you never need worry about that happening with Vioget.” Then he, too, appeared to relax a trifle. “No matter,